Transitioning

Note:  This has been a hard post to write, and will therefore probably be hard to read.  It's an exercise in exorcism, putting thoughts down and out in an attempt to expel the insecurities, doubts, and questions that bring them up.  If you're looking for lightness and humor, you're not going to find it here today - just truth and doubt and where we really are right now.  Thanks for understanding.

We're in a bit of a rough spot around here.  The excitement of the change in scenery has subsided, the novelty of the hotel is gone, the newness of the house has faded a bit and the busyness of the initial unpacking has passed and we're now facing the really hard, slow work of the move - settling into new responsibilities, finding our routine and forming new relationships.

(And that kind of work can undermine even the most confident of folks - which I generally don't count myself among - bringing up old insecurities, going right to the core of all those questions most of us tend to ask ourselves occasionally:  Who am I really?  Am I doing things "the right way"?  Are people going to like me just as I am?)

The past two weeks, Jeremy's been leaving for work in the mornings by six and getting home in the evenings after 6 and has been told he shouldn't hold his breath for his early September vacation request.

Gideon colored on the carpet in his room with markers and dropped coins down the A/C vent.  And his nap is being shortened/phased out to at least in sure he goes to sleep at 8, since he wakes up at 6 regardless of bedtime.

A couple of Saturdays ago, Chewie the cat attacked a neighbor girl who didn't understand his, "OK, stranger kid, I've had enough of you touching me" meow, and later that day, Sally (in excitement, we hope, since we weren't home) jumped up on a neighbor and left a mark on one of his fingers with her teeth.

And me?  Well, frankly, I'd be happy if I could just spend most of the day watching recorded episodes of Castle.  But instead, I've been reduced to reading long-ago-sworn-off parenting books, in order to control my temper, stop yelling, nagging and spanking, and generally, you know, just try to be a more understanding, more engaged parent.

We're all just trying to figure out what we want, what we need, where we fit.

Since we left Texas, Gideon's social skills have really been developing.  He says "hi" to almost everyone who crosses our path, whether in a grocery store parking lot or walking around our neighborhood.  When we first moved into the house, he wanted to meet every single other neighbor as soon as possible - "Why we never meet all our neighbors?" was the question I heard every time we turned down our street.  He calls everyone, even people we have yet to meet, "friends" ("Who are those friends over there?").

Now that we have finally met a good majority of the neighbors, he's on constant lookout for the kids outside or starts begging at the end of the day - when I'm cooking dinner and the neighbors are just arriving home from their jobs - to "go say hi to them".

In Fort Worth, we had planned playdates once or twice a week and neighbors whose home had become an extension of our own, but it was usually me who instigated spontaneous visits to those neighbors, not him - although, he was always game.  When we were at home, as we often were, he easily entertained himself, with his train tracks in his bedroom or in the garden in the backyard.  He didn't seem to be missing anything.

But here, now, he has constant questions, wants more interaction, and I worry, feel guilty.  Is Gideon's social development suffering because of this move or because of the fact that we've failed miserably at giving him a sibling?

This last thought haunts me of late as we approach the end-of-August would-have-been due date for baby we lost in February.  Gideon has a good vocabulary, but I wonder if he has any understanding of the words "brother" and "sister".  Is it a problem if he doesn't?  And what do we do about it?

While I still feel settled that Gideon may, in fact, be our only one, I suppose I'm still processing the consequences of that possibility and I still haven't freed myself from the questions of my own harsh inner judge on the matter.  What if we'd started having kids earlier?  What if, like so many moms I know, I had been ready to start trying for number two when Gideon was only a year or 18 months old, instead of being selfish and scared and waiting until he was 20 or 22 months?  I'm the one that tells myself daily, "You only have one, so you don't deserve to be...(tired, frustrated, disorganized, unproductive)".  I imagine other moms think having only one makes me less of a mother, but I'm hoisting those thoughts on others out of my lingering insecurities on the way things have played out.

I feel raw and laid bare here, embarrassed to admit such things, which goes hand-in-hand with my concern over both mine and Gideon's social skills these days.  I worry about becoming too familiar too fast with surrounding neighbors, fearing I've lost my gauge of what's appropriate when and not fully knowing the culture of the area yet.  Age, motherhood, lack of practice at establishing myself in a new place make me uncertain as to how to go about connecting with people around me.

In college, making friends was easy, as it was when we were expatriates overseas.  And being a new mother opened doors easily to friendships once we got back to the U.S.  But now, there is no novelty to our situation.  We're just one more new family in the area, looking to a build life along with all of the other families in the area, some new, some established.  

For myself, I waiver between wanting solitude and time to write (and wanting to be comfortable in that solitude) and wanting to find friends to really talk to, not just make small talk with.  I was in college still the last time I had a friend I could go clothes shopping with, someone I could easily call up and say, "Hey, let's spend some time together - just you and me."  I miss that and want that here, while at the same time feeling inhibited by loyalties to old friends and the fact that, again, I only have one child to pass off to a husband or babysitter, whereas most women have to find someone willing to take two or three or more children in order to have an afternoon out and that seems to be a major obstacle for them, if they have any interest at all in such socializing (which many don't seem to around here).

For Gideon, I long for playmates that are easily accessible, where running down to their yard is completely acceptable for both me and the playmates' parents, no calls or planning necessary.  But we're not there yet.  Or at least I'm not - just can't quite get a read on the expectations of the neighbor parents.  Wish I had Gideon's trust and enthusiasm and innocence.

Friday was a good day after a long, solitary week.  In the afternoon, we caught up with neighbors we've bonded quickly with, but who are, of course, moving this month (to Fort Worth, of all places).  And in the evening, we attended the last in the River Concert Series at St. Mary's College that Gideon and have anticipated eagerly weekly since mid-June and we found newly-made friends there - another couple that works on base with Jeremy and has one girl Gideon's age.  Gideon plays with Ellie like he's played with few other children.  They make each other happy.  They fit well together.  After the concert, as we all walked back to our cars, Gideon and Ellie held hands.  He's never held anyone's hand by mine or Jeremy's or an occasional grandparent's.

But as Jeremy put him to bed that night, Gideon asked, "Why aren't there any friends here tonight?"  Indeed.  It's a hard question to be faced with, a hard question to admit facing in today's world where everyone who's anyone has 300+ Facebook friends and endless people to text and chat with on their cell phones.

And it's a question that will take time and opportunity and faith and a little luck to resolve.  I'm praying for all of the above.  And I'm praying for all of our "friends" out there:  those we have yet to meet and those we miss and think often of.  God bless them all.